‘It’s about Tommy. I had a visit from a Mrs Darling asking if Tommy could live with her family. She seems to think it is not working out, Tommy living with you, and he would be happier living with her.’
Ian was livid. ‘I have forbidden Tommy to go anywhere near that family. Murderers and scoundrels, the lot of them. I am quite capable of taking care of my own nephew, thanks all the same.’
‘Well, this is the thing, you see. We can’t just hand children over to families who have no blood ties to the child. They would have to apply to adopt Tommy and, as you say, the family do not have the best of reputations. Mrs Darling was insistent Tommy was unhappy living with you though, which is why I felt the need to pay you a visit. Tommy’s welfare has to be top priority. Can I have a little chat with him?’
Having popped to the shops to get a loaf and some corned beef, Sandra returned home. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, eyeing the woman with suspicion. Sandra knew her house was filthy, and somehow visitors made her even more aware of it. Especially posh-looking ones like the stuck-up cow who was currently standing in her hallway.
Ian gave his wife a warning glance. ‘This is Mrs Ebdon from children’s Social Services. It seems that Tommy has been knocking around with that awful Darling boy and the mother wishes to adopt him. Tommy’s been fine here, hasn’t he, love? He’s fed and clothed well. That music you can hear is coming from Tommy’s bedroom. He’s thirteen next week and we’ve bought him his own portable TV for his bedroom, haven’t we, Sandra?’
‘Yes. Ian has bought the lad lots of gifts. He wants for nothing.’
‘Could I speak with Tommy, please?’ Mrs Ebdon asked again.
‘Yes, of course. You make Mrs Ebdon a cup of tea, Sandra, while I get Tommy. He’s probably not even dressed yet.’
‘No tea for me, thank you. I’ve not long had one,’ Mrs Ebdon fibbed. It was one of those dirty homes that smelled of cat’s piss, therefore no way would she drink out of a cup.
Lying on his bed singing along to ‘Metal Guru’, Tommy jumped as his uncle burst into the room. ‘What d’ya want?’ he asked fearfully. His uncle always knocked first and Tommy could see he didn’t look too happy.
Ian turned the music up a touch and grabbed Tommy by the arm. ‘There is a woman downstairs from Social Services. She wants to ask you some questions. You are to tell her you are very happy living here, got that? Only, if you tell her any different, I will find out and I won’t be best pleased. You know what happened last time you upset me, don’t you?’
Feeling nauseous, Tommy gabbled, ‘I’ll tell her I’m happy. I swear I will.’
‘Thank you for your visit,’ Ian said curtly as he shut the front door. Mrs Ebdon had spoken to Tommy alone in his room and the devious little scrote had then announced he was off out. Ian hadn’t wanted to argue with the lad, not in front of that nosy cow, so had wished Tommy a nice time. He would wait until the ungrateful little shit came home later, then give him what for.
‘Why are you drinking?’ Sandra asked, as Ian poured himself a large port and brandy. Even he knew that he turned nasty when inebriated, which was why he rarely touched alcohol.
‘None of your business. I want you to go and stay at your sister’s tonight. You haven’t visited her for a while.’
Sandra felt uneasy. ‘Why?’
‘Because I bloody said so, woman. Go pack some things. Stay two nights. Off you go.’
As Sandra trudged upstairs, she could not help but feel sorry for Tommy. If Ian was drunk, he was bound to batter the lad when he came home, like he’d battered her in the past. All she could do was hope he did nothing worse than that.
‘You should have told the woman the truth. Why didn’t you say your uncle got in the bath with you and he had a big stonker? She would have let you live with us then,’ Danny Darling stated.
‘Because he threatened me, then I heard him come up the stairs. He was earwigging outside my room, I know he was.’
‘How did he threaten you? What did he say exactly?’
‘Nothing much,’ Tommy muttered. ‘He just sort of said I’d be in trouble if I didn’t say I was happy living there.’
‘He needs a clump. You should tell Ronnie everything you’ve told me.’
‘No. I can’t. Please don’t say anything to Ronnie.’
‘I won’t. I promised ya and I never break a promise.’ Danny took his penknife out of his pocket and made a small cut on the palm of his hand. ‘Do the same,’ he ordered, handing the knife to Tommy.
‘Why?’
‘You’ll see.’
When Tommy did as asked, Danny clasped his hand so their blood mixed together. ‘Don’t matter if you don’t live with us. This means we’re brothers anyway. Blood brothers.’
Tommy’s eyes shone with delight. He had always wanted a brother. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really. Now where shall we go? Record shop or boxing gym?’
‘Boxing gym.’
Danny leapt up and playfully punched Tommy on the chin. ‘Come on then, Henry Cooper. Race ya there.’
*
‘Hello, Norman. I have been ringing you for the past few hours. Have you only just got home?’ Ian enquired.
‘Yes,’ Norman lied. He hadn’t been answering his phone since his altercation with the Darling boy.
Ian produced a bottle of port and a bottle of brandy from a carrier bag. ‘Sandra is visiting her sister, so I thought you and I might have a bit of fun with the boy later at mine.’
Norman shook his head. ‘I can’t. I’ve already made plans.’
‘You! Plans! Don’t make me laugh. You never go out, only to the shops or mine.’
‘I’m visiting my aunt. She hasn’t been too well.’
‘Be a devil and let’s have some fun. Tommy has been a naughty boy, roaming the streets with that Darling lad again. Bad boys deserve to be punished,’ Ian chuckled.
‘No can do. Sorry, Ian.’
‘But you said you liked the lad.’
‘Yeah, I do. But I really need to see my aunt. She sounds as though she’s on her last legs.’
‘Oh well, your loss is my gain,’ Ian smirked.
‘Certainly is. Enjoy,’ Norman shut his front door, ran to the bathroom and doused his sweaty face in cold water. If Tommy squealed to those Darlings, Ian was a dead man walking. Literally.
‘You’re late,’ Ian snapped when Tommy walked through the front door.
Tommy glanced at his watch. He hadn’t wanted to come home tonight, but knew he had little choice. His only consolation was that Auntie Sandra would be here, as he’d asked her yesterday if she would be visiting her sister this weekend and she’d said no.
‘It’s ten past nine. You are taking liberties lately, Tommy. Massive liberties. I thought I told you to stay away from those Darlings. They’re no good, do you hear me? No bloody good at all.’
‘But I like Danny and he’s the only real mate I’ve met round ’ere. If I stop knocking about with him, then I got no one and I’ll be lonely.’
Ian smiled. ‘You’ve got me, but you don’t seem to want to spend any time in my company these days. I’ll do you a deal. You be nicer to me, and I’ll allow you to be friends with Danny. How does that sound?’
Suddenly aware the perve had been drinking, Tommy froze. ‘Where’s Auntie Sandra?’
‘Answer my question first, then I’ll answer yours.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh, I think you do, Tommy.’
Tommy’s eyes burned with fire. ‘You come anywhere near me again, and I swear I will tell Ronnie Darling. I mean it. I will, and he will do you over.’
When Tommy ran up to his room, Ian paced up and down the lounge. Ronnie Darling would most certainly do him over, as his nephew had so politely put it, but Ian doubted the lad would ever have the balls to tell Ronnie anything. Bar his sister, he had never told anyone what had happened between himself and Uncle Ted. Especially once he’d got used to all the wonderful gifts Uncle Ted bought
him and the great days out they had together. Surely, given time, once the initial shock had worn off, Tommy would feel the same way about him?
Brain fuddled by the amount of alcohol he’d supped, Ian paced up and down the threadbare filthy carpet. He had to think very carefully about his next move. Very carefully indeed.
*
Tommy lay on his bed thinking about his mum, sister and Rex. He never thought about Alexander or that old witch Nanny Noreen. They had put him in this situation so, to him, they were both dead.
Feeling nauseous, Tommy put his hand under the right-hand side of the pillow to check the handle of the dagger was in the right spot, if push came to shove. No way would he tell Ronnie or Danny if his uncle were to violate him again. He never wanted anybody to know. It would make him feel abnormal. He was a Millwall fan now and wanted to be a boxer when he grew up. He refused to be known as some poor molested orphan. He’d die of shame.
Deciding to turn his music off so he could hear Ian approaching, Tommy picked up his Shoot magazine. He couldn’t concentrate on reading it though. He had no idea where that fat cow he was forced to call Auntie Sandra was, but he prayed she would come home soon.
It was past midnight when Ian made his way up the stairs. He had decided at one point not to touch the boy again, but then he’d had a few more drinks and his mind had drifted back to the past …
Valerie had always been the popular one. Like him, she had no idea who her father was, but it was obviously a different man to the one who’d fathered him. Valerie was pretty, vibrant and confident, whereas he had always been the total opposite. He’d been a chubby boy with few friends and no one to confide in. It had taken him weeks to pluck up the courage to tell his sister what Uncle Ted had been doing to him, but she’d been going out with pals that day and was too busy tarting herself up to even listen.
And now her precious son was going to be well and truly initiated into the world Uncle Ted had introduced him to all those years ago.
Unable to sleep, Tommy could feel his heart beating at an incredibly rapid pace. He hadn’t got undressed, was too scared to in case he needed to run out of the house. He’d even debated whether to sleep down by the canal, but that was no long-term solution. Danny was right. Killing the perve was the only way out and he didn’t even care if he was sent to a bad boy’s home. Hazel might not have been happy in the home she’d been sent to, but at least she was safe from perverts like Uncle Ian. Anything had to be better than living like this.
‘Tommy, you awake?’
Having switched his lamp off, Tommy did not reply. He could smell the stench of alcohol mixed with cigarettes. He could also hear the perve’s laboured breathing.
‘Tommy, Tommy, wake up. Look, I am sorry if I shouted at you when you came home. But I miss what we had. I want us to be close again,’ Ian slurred.
When the perve began to stroke his face, Tommy wasn’t taking any chances. He pulled the dagger from under his pillow and plunged it straight in the left-hand side of Ian’s neck.
Stunned, Ian fell backwards on the bed.
‘You dirty bastard,’ Tommy bellowed.
Having guessed it would come to this, Tommy had already packed the treasured photos of his mum, Hazel, Linda and Rex in his duffel bag, along with PC Kendall’s phone number, his Millwall programmes and records.
‘Tommy, help me. Call an ambulance,’ Ian rasped, holding the neck wound.
Tommy took one last look at the fat bastard. ‘I hate you, ya nonce. I hope you die.’
‘Please. Please help me.’
Aware that his once grey-looking sheets were rapidly turning to claret, Tommy grabbed his belongings, ran down the stairs and legged it along the street as fast as his little legs would take him.
CHAPTER NINE
The nearest phone box was only a couple of minutes away, but it was out of service, so Tommy ran towards the Old Kent Road.
It was gone midnight and there were drunks staggering about the streets, but Tommy wasn’t scared. After living with that perve, nothing and nobody would ever scare him again.
There was a lad already in the phone box and Tommy silently willed him to hurry up. PC Kendall was the only person he could think of turning to for help in this particular situation. He was too young to run away and was bound to meet other perverts like Ian if he was forced to live on the streets.
When the phone box became free, Tommy darted inside and with trembling hands dialled the number. ‘Can I speak to PC Kendall, please?’
‘PC Kendall isn’t on duty at the moment. Is there anything I can help you with?’ came the reply.
‘No. I only want to speak to PC Kendall. He’s my friend. It’s important. I think I might have killed someone.’
The officer on night duty could tell Tommy was a kid. Instinct told him this was no crank call though. ‘What is the number you’re calling from, lad? Have a look and read it out to me.’
‘Will PC Kendall call me back? I’m not telling anyone else what happened, only him.’
‘Yes. I will call him at home. What’s your full name?’
Tommy reeled off his name and number, put the phone down and it rang within a couple of minutes, the shrill tone making him jump. ‘Can you help me, please? Uncle Ian turned out to be a pervert and I think I might have killed him.’
PC Kendall was alarmed. ‘Where are you, Tommy?’
‘Along the Old Kent Road. I’m not sure exactly where, but there’s a club over the road playing Ska music with lots of black people going in and out.’
‘Where is your uncle?’
‘At his house. In my bedroom.’
‘What’s the address, Tommy? I need to call an ambulance. It’s for the best, trust me.’
Tommy reeled off the address.
‘Right, stay where you are and I’ll find you. Stay close to or inside the phone box. I’m on my way.’
A man turned up, wanting to make a call, so Tommy had to leave the phone box. He was huddled inside a shop doorway, clutching his duffel bag to his chest, when he spotted Ronnie Darling walking towards him. Ronnie had his dark hair slicked back, was dressed in a smart suit with a pretty woman on his arm. Tommy had to look twice to make sure it really was him.
‘Shit,’ Tommy mumbled, looking at his feet, but it was too late. Ronnie had already clocked him. ‘What’s happening, Tommy lad? What the hell you doing sat there this time of night?’
‘I’m waiting for someone.’
Highly suspicious, Ronnie crouched next to the lad. He looked frozen. ‘Who? Only it’s nearly one and that club over the road kicks out in a bit. Full of Samboes, that is. No way am I leaving you here, it ain’t safe. Come on. You’re coming home with me.’
Tommy shook his head while praying PC Kendall would hurry up. It seemed ages since they’d spoken. ‘No. I must stay here. I’m waiting for a friend.’
‘Danny?’
‘No. Not Danny. Look, I’m fine, honest. You go.’
‘I’m freezing, Ronnie. What we standing here for?’ asked the pretty blonde.
Ronnie glared at his current bit of fluff. ‘’Cause this kid is a close family friend and he’s out here on his own. Jump in a sherbet if you’re cold.’
Clocking a car crawling along the kerb, Tommy leapt up. Thankfully, it wasn’t a marked police car. It was a Volkswagen Beetle.
As Tommy ran towards the vehicle, Ronnie grabbed hold of his arm. ‘No you don’t, lad. Who is this pal of yours?’
PC Kendall stepped out of the car and flashed his badge. ‘I’m here to help, Tommy. He called me. He’s in trouble.’
Ronnie looked at Tommy in disbelief. He’d thought the lad was one of their own. Had he been planted by the Old Bill to befriend his brother? Was he some miniature grass? ‘You little shitbag,’ Ronnie mumbled.
Tears stinging his eyes, Tommy shoved Ronnie in the chest. He felt so upset Ronnie had turned against him. His heart told him to blurt out the truth to Ronnie. But how could he? Tommy didn’t feel like a little boy a
ny more. No way did he want the Darlings finding out what his uncle had done to him. That was shameful. ‘It ain’t what you think. Tell Danny and your mum thanks for everything. I will never forget you all. You’re like family to me.’
When Tommy leapt in the car and it sped off, for the first time in his life, Ronnie Darling was speechless.
Instead of handing Tommy over to the authorities in South London, PC Kendall took him back to Barking police station and gently questioned him there. He had already heard that Ian Taylor had been alive when found, but was in a critical condition and it was touch and go whether he would survive. Apparently, he had lost a lot of blood and had the police not broken the door down when they did, to allow the ambulance men entry, Ian would have been dead within minutes.
‘Can you tell us what happened, Tommy?’ asked the blonde female officer. She smelled nice and was quite pretty, like his mum, but no way could Tommy open up to her. ‘Can I talk to Peter alone?’ Tommy asked. PC Kendall had insisted earlier he was to refer to him by his first name. He could tell the lad had experienced a torrid time and wanted him to feel comfortable enough to tell him. He could kind of guess what had happened and his heart went out to the lad. Tommy had always been a good kid.
‘Let me speak to Tommy alone,’ Kendall urged his colleague.
When DS Bright left the room, Kendall repeated the question.
‘Uncle Ian did something bad to me. Really bad.’
‘Tonight?’
‘No. A few weeks ago, but tonight he was going to do it again. I know he was. He came into my bedroom and Auntie Sandra was visiting her sister again. That’s when it happened the last time.’
Though it was only a few months since Kendall had last seen Tommy Boyle, his once bubbly nature had all but disappeared. The boy was still as polite as ever, but his once sparkling eyes were dull and lifeless – hardly surprising, in the circumstances. Kendall softly asked some more questions, then made a decision. ‘I need you to be brave, Tommy. I want a doctor to examine you. It might prove to be a bit embarrassing and uncomfortable. You OK with that?’
The Sting Page 7